Only You
by mltrefry
Summary: One-shot, post "Girl in the Fireplace". Alcohol isn't a solution, but it certainly makes it easier to handle that the love of your life seems hearts broken over another woman. One he was willing to leave you on a spaceship for.


Rose took another drink, wishing she could wash the memories away with every gulp. But no, it was still present.

The way he looked when he went back for her, and he was too late.

The way he readily jumped through the mirror on a white horse like a knight in pin-stripped armor just for her.

She was beautiful, clever, and everything that the Doctor would want, she was sure. Reinette, Madamme de Pompedor. Madamme de Pompassness more like it.

It wasn't right to speak ill of a French aristocrat who'd been dead for so long by this point in time she was essentially dust, but Rose couldn't help it. She'd loved the Doctor since he was leather and big ears, saying things like "I could save the world but lose you." Where was that man now? Where was the one who didn't dare risk losing her in any way?

Long gone.

It had been a while since she doubted the man she traveled with now as the same one as before, and she'd sworn she'd seen a glimpse of him when he was arguing with her outside of that cafe not long ago.

" _Imagine watching that happen to someone you…."_

Guess he didn't finish that sentence because there wasn't a point. Someone you travel with? Consider your best mate? Not love, not now, not after bloody France.

She took another shot of hypervodka, doubting the affects dear ol' Jack always claimed it had because she wasn't feeling it enough. Her mind was still too sharp, her limbs not nearly as heavy, her speech not nearly slurred enough.

"What's a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this?" A very gorgeous bloke with light blue eyes and pitch black hair asked as he leaned on the bar. All swagger and charm, fit and perfect, she'd have fallen for him instantly if she was the old Rose. Rose pre-Doctor. Rose who thought pretty was important and didn't mind if a bloke wasn't all that ambitious or too much of a dreamer.

"Shove off." She said bluntly, catching one of the bartender's eyes and signaling for another round.

"But you look impossibly lonely. Heartbroken. Like you could use an ear." He tried again.

Rose turned her glare at him, "Not off the mark. 'Cept I'm not lonely, so shove off." She snapped as another three hypervodka's were placed in front of her.

"What's your name?" He continued, and Rose's phone chirped in the transdiminsional pockets of the leather jacket she'd snuck out of the wardrobe. She firmly ignored the man standing beside her as she fished it out, seeing the text from Mickey.

 _Micks: Doctor's looking everywhere for ya._

 _Let him,_ she'd typed back then took a shot to wash the guilt away.

She asked the Doctor if he was alright, and he lied about it. That's what made this even worse. She'd tried to be supportive of him, to be there, to listen because she could understand how maybe a woman of high standing could turn his head. But he'd lied, and she knew. She and Mickey left him alone, but after Mickey turned the corner she'd thought to tell him where they'd be if he needed them, caught him reading the letter, saw pain in his eyes that showed how his hearts broke. She'd seen that look before, caught it here and there in blue eyes before, but it hadn't been like that.

She was there, she was right _there._ Didn't that stupid alien know that he'd never have had to feel that way? One good snog, or even a bad snog, a light little brush of the lips and she'd have shown him everything she ever felt about him. How close had they come, time and time again, and for what? So she could be put second? For her to find out that, despite everything, she really was just another in a long line. He'd spoken of his companions, some anyway, and they were mostly women. Probably all beautiful, high class, educated women too. Not some chav from the estates who was stupid enough to up and leave everything she knew for a man. Twice.

Another shot, and her limbs were finally feeling heavy. Rose tilted her head, and the rush of wobble and lightness overloaded her brain. Oh she was finally to the point of perfect, blissful buzz. Heavy buzz. Bordering drunk. It was lovely.

She turned, seeing mister charming alien bloke still there, smiling just a little more mischievously as if he knew what point she'd just hit.

"Listen, mate." She said, her hand smacking down on the crook of his elbow where he leaned on the counter. He glanced at it, his eyes dilating a bit when he looked back up. "I'm not who you want. I'm nothing. I'm just some girl in a bar who's getting drunk because the man she wants don't want her."

"Well I could want you." He smirked.

"Could, but ya don't." She said, looking him over. "'Cause, see, I'm just one in a long line. Not special. Not a French whore, king's girlfriend. Not anyone's girlfriend. Used to be Mickey's girlfriend. Could shag Mickey for spite. No, he'd think we'd be back on. Bad thing that. Didn't even want 'im with us. Wonder if that's why I was left behind. Probably not though. Lynda was blonde. All the blondes but me, suppose." She picked up another shot without looking, swallowing it back. She realized the alien guy hadn't left, but moved closer. "You have eyes like he had." She remarked. "All ice blue, and 'ntense. Beautiful eyes. Could fall into them. Not storm though. Like the storm. Storm was perfect." She reached for another shot.

"And that's enough for you." She heard the wrong Doctor's voice say behind her, plucking the shot out of her reach. She looked up into the chocolate brown eyes that took in her state wordlessly, the thin line of his mouth showing more disapproval than any other expression he could have made.

"Excuse me, but I believe we were talking before you so rudely interrupted." The alien man pointed out.

"Your voice 's very smooth," Rose noted with a tilt of her head, hand absently reaching up for the shot in the Doctor's hand.

"Meant to seduce you," The Doctor said rather bluntly.

"Oi, rude you are. Rude and not ginger." She proclaimed, distracting him enough to nearly grab the shot only to have bit of it slosh on to her jeans. As she glared up at him, she watched the Doctor take the remainder and swallow it back while staring down the alien supposedly seducing her. "Hey!" She snapped. "Was my drink. You wanna forget, get your own."

"You must be the prat she was was rambling about a moment ago." Alien bloke said, looking the Doctor up and down. "Not what I was picturing, I must admit. From my understanding, your ship has sailed."

"My ship doesn't sail, but it's about to leave, and she's going to be on it." The Doctor said in his casual calm that was a mask for his building anger.

She sorta hated that, but also loved it.

"Says you." She replied, because she was still more interested in not seeing him. Then again, she really didn't want to be stuck in the 51st century if Jack was any indication of what she might find here. Not that Jack himself was bad, but he himself admitted to being one of the more tamed of those in the century.

"Yes, says me." The Doctor said, grabbing her hand and pulling her off the bar stool. Rose stumbled, barely staying on her feet as he pulled her roughly through the crowd.

"Let go," She said when they were outside.

"No." He snapped, pulling her around the corner to the back street where the TARDIS was parked. Supposedly he needed parts, supposedly the ship needed fixing up after being near such giant holes in time. Supposedly, but Rose was pretty sure he just landed on the nearest planet in hopes his companions would leave him be and explore.

And that's all she was, wasn't she? His companion.

The Doctor unlocked the door to the TARDIS, somehow getting out his key and getting it unto the lock with the hand he used less often. Ambidextrous. She once wondered at the possibilities, she'd have to stop doing that now just to save her sanity.

He was pulling her into the TARDIS, shutting and locking the doors before running up the ramp and sending them into the Vortex before Rose could get back outside.

She turned to face the console and leaned heavily on the doors, slowly sinking down with her legs stretched out. She watched the Doctor head in the direction of the corridor, and closed her eyes. So he was leaving her there. Good.

But then his footsteps were coming closer to her, and she groaned. Kicking her feet on the grating, she peeked up at him and found him simply standing over her, taking her in. His eyes were sad again, his broken hearts reflected in them.

"I thought we were getting along." He said quietly.

"Me too." She said softly.

"Thought you were past the whole," He gestured about, and she squinted at him in an effort to glare.

"Past what? Being left behind? Being another notch in your, in your, I dunno, what do Time Lords put notches in?" She asked, her frustration pulling back for her curiosity to come through.

"What?" The Doctor asked, face falling from annoyed to stunned.

"What ever, doesn't matter, cause I'm not over it. Not gonna be, don't think."

"Rose?"

"Thought I was different, s'all. Like I said, got it wrong. Keep getting it wrong. Never get it right, me. Just keep thinking 's gonna be one way, turns out it's not. Think we're gettin' on, in comes another blonde. Kiss me in Rome, know it's nothing now. Snogged her too, didn't you? Maybe got a good _dance_ in before you left."

She fell silent, rant done for the moment as she found his shoelaces fascinating. There was nothing special about them at all except that they were the easiest thing to look at. Shoe laces were neutral, they weren't unique to him or anyone. Wasn't like they were brightly colored, or elastic coils. Plain, off-white from everyday use, tied like anyone else would do them. Simple, not uniquely Doctor in anyway. Safe.

Then he crouched down, found her gaze with his, and she could see there was hope behind them. Oh bloody hell, why hope? Was he gonna suddenly start sharing? Tell her all about his time with his precious Madamme de Pomparanian or whatever?

"Rose," he said her name like he was treading on thin ice, which he sorta was. "Did you go out to drink because of, well, because of France?" He asked carefully.

She looked down at her fingers, examining the chips in her nail polish. "Maybe." She said easily enough, keeping her mouth shut before she rambled on.

He surprised her when leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead before pulling her into his arms. "I'm going to tell you something I'll know you'll forget." He said in her hair, really quietly like he wasn't sure he wanted her to hear despite his assumption.

"'S that?" She asked, her face muffled by his suit jacket.

"She was a lot of things, but she wasn't you." He said softly. "I want you, Rose. Only you."

She remained quiet because she didn't really know how to take that. Only her to travel? Made sense. Best mates and all.

Rose pulled back, met his eye, and suddenly wasn't so sure she was right anymore. For the first time in what felt like forever she saw _that_ look. The intensity of the storm, fear of loss, and something that ran stronger than friendship. Her eyes fell to his lips, and because she was wearing his old jacket and thinking about Rome, because he suffered a loss and she was just drunk enough to be bold, she kissed him. Quick, chaste, pretty much just a peck on the mouth that gave away nothing of what she was thinking or feeling. It was an anchor, proving she wasn't leaving. A promise to stay.

"Wh-wh-what was that for?" He stuttered and blinked rapidly, his ears turning pink.

She slid his former jacket off her shoulders, handing it over. "Not being mad 'bout the jacket." She said as he took it. He looked down where he gripped the collar, staying on his knees as she got up, staggered to the corridor.

"Why'd you take it?" He asked, his voice cracking between trying to be angry and fear over the answer.

She paused, turned unsteadily toward him. "Needed to remember."

"What?"

"You wouldn't leave me."

He shook his head. "Never." He said with conviction, the corner of his mouth pulling up.

She smirked, turned and stumbled, fell back a bit before righting herself. "Night, Doctor."

"No nights on the TARDIS." He called teasingly, and she laughed from her toes.

Rose passed out not long after, waking over the covers of her bed still in the clothes she'd worn the day before.

She only vaguely remembered things from the night before: pale blue eyes and the smell of Doctor and leather, drinking over French whores and confessions muffled in her hair that she couldn't remember the words to. All she knew was in the artificial light of day, something in her felt more confident. She got up, showered, dressed, and headed to the galley to find the Doctor already there preparing breakfast. Her favorite mug was on the table, steam from the tea still rising, and he was smiling nervously at her when she met his eye.

Rose walked over, hugged his arm. "I'm sorry."

"'Bout what?" He asked as he focused on waffle maker.

"Last night." She said, and she felt him stiffen. "Don't remember much," She added, and he relaxed a bit. "But I do know you brought me home, and weren't mad at me."

Rose looked up, and something in his eyes seemed … familiar. Which was odd because she was sure she hadn't seen that kind of tenderness from him in this body for a while. Cupping her cheeks, he smiled. "Course not." He smirked. "Have no reason to be." He smiled wide, manic, and she briefly wondered if it was deflection from what happened in France.

But it wasn't, she could feel it. What ever he had felt over Reinette, it was already gone. Over.

"So where we off to today, Boss?" Mickey's voice boomed as he entered the galley, and Rose stepped back slowly. Mickey came over, standing so he could look between the two of them, then his eyes fell to the waffle maker. "Burnin' breakfast there, Mate."

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you for reading. It was requested that I do some 9/Rose fluff, but I'd already done one of those (Unchained Melody) and did another one shot with those two, so I thought I would do a 10/Rose in the meantime.


End file.
